


Canine Sensibilities

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:53:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: He hoped Sirius was too drunk to notice the shiver that ran through his body as Sirius’ snuffling nose moved across his neck and lips grazed his pulse point.





	Canine Sensibilities

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

For Petulantgod on the occasion of his birthday

* * *

When two years of hard work and practice and spell casting and book-reading paid off, it somehow just made sense to James how they turned out. Peter was a rat. He was always the best at escaping when a prank went pear-shaped, and he could disappear in an empty room if he wanted to. James had always fancied himself something noble and graceful and strong, and he was just enough of a narcissist to appreciate the rather magnificent rack of antlers growing out of his stag form’s head. But perhaps, Sirius made the most sense. Loyal, loving, excitable, capable of eating nearly anything and not getting sick, able to sleep damn near anywhere and always up in everyone else’s personal space, especially James’.

James wondered, once, how he hadn’t guessed exactly what Sirius would end up as. The book said your Animagus form comes from your heart, and James knew now that it was exactly true.

Like now, his brow weighed down by firewhisky and laughter and swaying to the movement of the slightly tilting room, James was getting yet more evidence of Sirius’ canine resemblance. Remus had gone to bed early, and Peter was passed out in the next room, always the lightweight of the group, but James and Sirius were no less drunk than he. James lay back on the bed, and Sirius scooted closer until his arm was draped around James’ waist and his nose was brushing against James’ neck, hot breath ghosting over his skin, and James hoped Sirius was too drunk to notice the shiver that ran through his body as Sirius’ snuffling nose moved across his neck and lips grazed his pulse point.

“Y’smell like Prongs,” Sirius said in the bumbled pronunciation of a drunk, and James wasn’t sure if he should take it as a compliment or an insult or merely a statement of fact. Sirius’ nose drifted down into the open neck of his rumpled and partially unbuttoned uniform shirt, sniffing more, and oh god, was that his tongue?

Yes, it most definitely was Sirius’ tongue, because there it was again and James tried to think of Slughorn and McGonagall’s tartan knickers and Hagrid's collection of murtlap pelts because it was simply not on to get stirrings in one’s most manly areas because of _Sirius_.

“Mmm,” Sirius murmured thoughtfully, his hand curling around James’ hip, “Taste like Prongs too.” Sirius’ lips and tongue and nose buried in the hollow at the base of his throat and that bloody hand on his hip were certainly not helping the situation in James’ trousers one bit. James tried to add to the litany of erection-killing thoughts, like dead kittens and Snape’s graying pants and that time Sirius dared him to lick a flobberworm but _God_ , there was Sirius’ tongue again, this time on his jaw, and James was completely distracted from his distraction.

“Pa’foot?” James asked softly, “What’r you doing?”

Sirius kissed the spot he’d just licked on James’ chin, so dangerously close to his lips. “Tasting.” Sirius said it in a very matter-of-fact tone, as if kissing and licking and touching your straight best friend was the most normal thing in the world. It’s normal to react like this, James thought, inappropriate erections happen all the time when you’re a teenager, never mind the fact that a very warm body is pressed up against you and Sirius’ thumb is stroking the inside of your hip. One would have to be dead not to react to something like that, right?

Sirius shifted upwards until he was above James, his lips hovering mere inches away, eyes hooded and dark. “I want more,” he said softly, and James couldn’t do anything but stare at those lips that had just been on his skin. They looked so full and red and soft, and it was madness to want it, and he liked _girls_ , damn it, but there was Sirius, so close and getting closer and yes, there, lips touching his, gently sucking in his bottom lip, mouths moving together in almost a caress.

Sirius tasted of firewhisky and chocolate and spice, and his tongue was hot and wet, parting James’ lips, sweeping the inside of his mouth and James _moaned_ out loud, much to his chagrin. James could swear he felt Sirius smile against his mouth and then dive back in and there was something comforting about the fact that he could blame this on the alcohol and the darkness and Sirius’ dark eyes in the morning and go back to wanking over the image of that hint of Lily Evan’s cleavage he saw when her blouse button came unbuttoned, but Sirius pushed James’ glasses off and curled his hand into James’ hair, holding him there like he might jump up and run away at any moment. But James wouldn’t. Not when it felt so good, surrounded by warm body and warmer lips and Sirius shifted over him and James’ eyes flew open because Sirius would know that he was hard from this. Then Sirius shifted again and nothing mattered because there, pressing against James’ aching erection, was Sirius’ own arousal, heat seeping through the fabric of his trousers and James gave up on the worrying entirely. He kissed Sirius harder, one hand sliding down to shamelessly cup Sirius’ arse while the other hand fisted in Sirius’ long hair, pulling him in closer so that their tongues slid together, teeth nipping at Sirius’ lips.

Sirius moved against him unsteadily at first, pressing their cocks together through cloth, and God, there was nothing better than this, nothing at all better than the friction of another cock against his, and the knowledge that Sirius was just as aroused as he was.

Somewhere, vaguely in the back of his mind, as Sirius’ thrusts against him became more rhythmic, James decided that it figured that a dog animagus would enjoy humping himself against someone else. Not that James was complaining or anything, because every thrust sent sparks behind his eyelids, and it didn’t matter that this was _Sirius_ and not Lily or some other skirt because all that mattered now was the way his balls were drawing up and how his hips were pushing back up against Sirius, fingers digging into Sirius’ arsecheek as they rocked together frenetically, faster and faster, kisses becoming sloppy until they were only pressing their lips together and breathing the same air. Sirius stiffened against James and his hips thrust _hard_ , and wetness spread through the front of James’ trousers and James realized that Sirius had come, that Sirius had come because of _him_ , and he howled into Sirius’ mouth as his release was wrenched out of him, his body shuddering beneath the weight of Sirius.

James dropped his head back onto the bed as Sirius pressed open-mouthed kisses to his neck, lying heavily on top of him. James gently pushed Sirius off him so he could breathe again and looked up at the ceiling.

“Still taste like Prongs,” Sirius mumbled against his skin, and then curled an arm around James’ waist, using James’ shoulder for a pillow, ignoring their ruined trousers for the time being.

It was the firewhisky, James told himself, despite the lessening haze, and the next night, he would go back to his wank fantasies of red hair and green eyes and soft curves and he wouldn’t think about black hair and dark grey eyes, or of the hard planes of Sirius’ body above his. Because straight boys might be allowed some drunken rutting with your best friend, but thinking about a bloke like that would be another matter entirely.  



End file.
